


Get Up (and Put Your War Clothes On)

by Vashti (tvashti)



Series: Many Mothers' [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, August 2019 TwistedShorts Ficathon, BAMF Women, Community: twistedshorts, Epic Battles, Gen, Meet-Cute, Mistaken Identity, Sort Of, Women Being Awesome, some proofreading we die liek mne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22193023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvashti/pseuds/Vashti
Summary: Max and the Green Place warriors make it back to the Citadel in time for a battle.
Series: Many Mothers' [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587670
Kudos: 7
Collections: TwistedShorts





	Get Up (and Put Your War Clothes On)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2019 FAD. Revised for clarity and such, but it’s otherwise unchanged.

Max tapped Slayer's shoulder. "They with you," he shouted over the roar of her engine. 

Slayer shot him a sharp look. "I can see the dust but can't see vehicles. Whatsit lookin’?"

So Max described the rigs he could see. He wasn't even halfway through when that ululating Green Place war-cry tore from her throat. Suddenly their rig was leaping ahead of the others. The cry was picked up, car by car, as they passed, until they were as wild and raucous as Old Joe’s war party. And Max and Slayer were the tip of the lancer’s spear.

He could see the question in her eyes whenever she glanced over at him, but Slayer never stopped her war cry. Her rig never slowed. 

”Be faster if I drive my own rig.”

Slayer nodded sharply. 

Max wasted no time in climbing out of her lightweight vehicle, and scooting to the back. Straddling both, he undid the simple latch that kept the two rigs together, quickly scrambling across the hood of his Interceptor as it continued to roll, the Green Place warriors zipping past. Everything was where he’d left them--supplies thrown into the back, guns and ammo on the front seat. And there was more than enough guzz in the tank to get him back to the Citadel with the rest.

Max floored it, chasing Slayers rig...and whoever was attacking their new Green Place.

* * *

“Max! Down!”

He dropped into a painful crouch, ignoring his knee in favor of keeping himself from getting new holes.

He had somehow acquired a machete along with his gun. It had already saved his life more than once. They’d fought their way up to the top of the Citadel, climbing a series of unconnected internal stairs, dusty and painfully dry from disuse. 

All around him Green Place warriors fought the invaders in the tight corridors. 

Max popped up, impaling a dirty, half-painted War Boy. The invaders seemed to be a hodge-podge of Bullet Budgers, War Boy survivors and wasteland rats. 

“Bullet Farmer tryna take whats ours,” Toast had growled at them when they had caught up with her down in the armory.

“Don’t know who he’s up ‘gainst,” Slayer had responded, a feral light in her eyes. She and Toast had grasped necks and bumped heads before Slayer turned out of the room. 

“Good to have you back, Fool,” Toast had said, wrapping the machete around his waist along with a bandolier of ammo while he wasn’t looking.

“Max.”

“Live and I’ll remember. Die and I won’t care.” Then she’d grabbed his neck and smacked their heads together before pushing him away.

The armory was the best guarded area of the Citadel, after Old Joe’s room and the gardens high above. It had once been the treasury, near the bottom of the tower, with it’s own hidden air shaft and fresh flowing water.

Slayer, the Green Place warriors and Max had been fighting their way up ever since. 

“Max! Take point!” one of the Green Place warriors shouted. It might have been Slayer, but just as likely not. The two of them had been trading leads, but all the young women knew his name--and his skill.

He led the way into the next room. 

And almost got a blackened wooden staff through his gut. Some instinct honed out of long survival pulled him back. Not before he took a blow to the chest though.

Which was quickly followed a strike to his arm, and a blow to the solar plexus. Max was coughing and on his knees in seconds. He felt the air shift as whoever had attacked him geared up for a blow meant to kill.

“Mother Buffy, no!” That was Slayer. “It’s Max the Fool. He’s with us.”

The blow never came. “Furiosa’s boo bear?”

Still trying to breath, Max looked up at his attacker. She was as old as any of the Vuvalini, probably older. Her face was deeply line and weather-beaten, but her green eyes were sharp and sparkling. Like the other Green Place warriors, she seemed to be physically perfect except for her advanced age. Max couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen so many elders, genuine elders, alive and well. 

Mother Buffy whistled. “Furiosa’s got good taste. If I was a hundred years younger, we’d have to talk. But right now, we’ve got a city to save.

“Aby, how’s it looking?”

Slayer--or Aby--quickly gave Mother Buffy their current status. “Good,” she said in response. “You guys came back just in time. We’ve got the skills, but they’ve got numbers. This would’ve gone all darkness-before-the-dawn if you hadn’t shown up.”

Max stared, but Slayer Aby gave her a fierce grin. “The Mothers are always drilling us about timing.”

“Last minute is the best minute?”

Slayer Aby’s grin only grew.

“Alright, alright! We’ve got work to do. Take Max, Libby--”

“Lavvy--”

“Whatever, and Thyme up to Faith and the others, and guard that door!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Aby sprinted out of the room to get the other two.

Struggling to his feet, Max said, “You’re their Mother.”

Mother Buffy made a rude sound. “Try again next decade, Tall, Dark and Scruffy.”

“Wha--” But Slayer Aby rushed in with the other young women. “We’re ready, Mother Buffy.”

“If you see Bon-bon--”

“Ribbon.”

“Whatever. Take her up with you. We need another sharp-shooter.”

Slayer Aby nodded sharply, grasping Mother Buffy’s arm before passing deeper into the Citadel. Last to go up, Max watched the elderly woman leave her hiding place to join the fray.

* * *

Max was still watching their backs, and so he was the last one to enter the room. And the only one that Slayer Aby didn’t introduce.

“No!” rang sharply behind him. But he looked back in time to have the sharp end of a gleaming red axe shaving the whiskers on his chin.

“Mother,” he breathed. She looked a lot like the deadly old woman below, but dark-eyed and possibly even more battle hungry. “Mother Faith.”

The axe dug a little deeper into his neck. “Just the Mother to you.”

Max grunted. 

“Damn he’s cute. Y’all are sure I don’t have to kill him.”

Cheedo broke free from the knot of women in the room. “Mother!” Her hand landed on the old woman’s shoulder. “This is Furiosa’s Fool.”

She turned and spat over her shoulder. “Should’ve known he was taken.”

Max made a noise...gesturing to the axe at his neck. 

“Oh. Yeah. That.” The Mother pulled the axe away. Then she turned to the still stunned women in the room. “Chop chop, people! Unless you want to see us overrun by Bullet Buggers. Ribbon, go up and help Furiosa. Lavender, Thyme, Abundance, go to your stations. Chee-chee, you’re stickin’ with me. And Fool--”

“Max.”

“Whatever, kid. What can you do? You any good at sharp-shooting?”

Max nodded. 

“Well, get out of here! Abundance! Point him.”

Slayer--Aby--Abundance winked and slapped his shoulder even as the Mother’s words followed them down the stone hall. “Are we fighting a war or having a social club? Jesus!”

“Your Mothers are... They’re not what I thought.”

Slayer Abundance laughed. “None of them are.”

Fin[ite]

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, this did not go where I thought (or intended for) it to go. You'd think I would have given up on give up on planning earlier on.


End file.
